“Boeing 248AK, switch to advisory. No landing information available for Gusty Garden Airport, the ATIS is Echo.”
“Over to advisory, talk to you soon, 248AK.”
Parked, switch planes. This ship is lower on the depth chart because she’s not ETOPS-certified yet, nor do I see the need to do so, as I have many others available who can fulfill that trip if necessary. Plus, there are only two places within my immediate area where ETOPS is required: the North Atlantic and the Hawaii corridor. This means the only time I need an ETOPS ship is for trips to Hawaii or Europe, and I have plenty of aircraft that can Go The Distance. Outside of those I normally assign to trips in either of those corridors, ETOPS certification isn’t that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, though having my entire fleet that can receive it be ETOPS rated would be nice.
Torque Wrench is an absolute miracle worker as a one-woman show. Singlehandedly doing all of the maintenance except the heavy checks, I probably pay her less than what she should be earning, but she doesn’t complain.
As such, I have way more planes than I really need, and despite my high-profile business, every ship is maintained airworthy. I don’t purchase, or rather, haven’t yet, purchased a ship solely for spares, as I would rather spend the extra money and go OEM as it were. I’ll probably start to shift away from that someday, but I’ll continue to purchase from approved suppliers as long as practical.
Soon after I park, I receive a flood of texts, thankfully into a group chat.
“Hey Max,” Rainbow says, “this is gonna sound weird, but our Equestrian counterparts just received a friendship mission, and the location is near you as it turns out. Can we stay with you while we figure out what it is?”
“Yeah. That’s fine. How many will that be? Thirteen of you?”
“Yes. I believe so.”
“No problem. How will I pick you up?”
“We’re waiting on when everyone gets here.”
“How many portals are they using?”
“Twilight’s the only one who has access right now.”
“Does this mean I have to go pick them up from Indianapolis?”
“I’ll have to talk with the Princess.”
“Please let me know ASAP.”
“Okay…! Now that we’re all here, how can we distinguish each of you?” I ask.
“You have Twi and Twily already.” Twi responds. “Though you can tell us apart by the glasses.”
“Okay, Applejack! One of you go by AJ.”
“I’ll do it.” Human AJ responds. “I think I get called it more than Applejack.”
“Works ‘fer me!” Equestrian Applejack concurs.
“Rainbow? You have a choice. Dash, Dashie, Rainbow…”
“Call me Dashie.” The Equestrian replies heroically.
“Done. Pinkie!”
“Yes!” Both respond simultaneously.
“Pinks good for one o’ya?”
“You pick.” They both respond. “No, YOU pick.” “Jinx, double jinx, triple jinx, you owe me a [soda/cupcake]!”
“Soda’s high! Who wants to go by Pinkie?” I ask without skipping a beat.
“I said ‘soda,’ so It’s Gonna Be Me!” The human responds gleefully.
“Where’s our Fluttershy?” Dashie asks as she peers around the room.
“She went to the bathroom.”
“Okay. I guess we can wait. Fluttershy, is there a nickname or something we can use to differentiate you two?”
“Um, I’ll ask if Fluttershy wants to go by ‘Flutters.’”
“Okay. Rarity’s the last one. What do you want me to call each of you?”
“You call me Rarity already. Wouldn’t want you to get us mixed up. My twin is currently pursuing somepony.”
“I can respond to something else.”
“‘Rares’ okay?”
“Sure.”
Just then, the Fluttershys return.
“Max, I’ll continue to use Fluttershy.”
“Call me Flutters.” The Equestrian smiles meekly.
“That settles it! So, you’ve been sent by this “friendship map” of yours. I have several questions.”
Every pony gathers around.
“When did the map start including this world?”
“Relatively recently. Right around the time I first came to visit.” Twily responds.
“Okay, and given how much of a toss-up solving problems in this world can be, where did the map dispatch you to?”
“Here, actually.”
“Why though?”
“I’m not sure. The map doesn’t give us much except a location.”
“I see. Well, if you need help finding out what or where the problem is, I have no shortage of resources available.”
“Actually, based on what I’ve been told, I think I know what it is.”
“Yes, and what would that be?”
“To make sure you knew that you failed.”
“Failed what?”
Completely blindsided by my response, Twily says, “I said ‘to make sure you were okay.’”
“Right. I thought you said that.”
She only gives me a skeptical look.
Some of my guests turn around to notice me, and once all eyes are on me, I tell them,
“Thank you for coming, and I’m sure the map has its best intentions for all of you as well as me. If Twily’s suspicions are correct, I assure you you were sent here unnecessarily. I’m fine. I assure you I am in no immediate danger of doing something outrageous. Please don’t waste your concerns on me. This is not the first time I’ve gone through something like this. If you’d like me to take you back to your origins, I will happily do so.”
“Wait a minute!” Applejack interjects. “Why in the world would you think we’re ‘wasting our concerns’ on you?”
“Because, speaking strictly to the Equestrians, we just met. Even if you are connected metaphysically, I assure you that I Can Handle It On My Own.”
“Sugarcube, I’m sorry to say, but we’re here to make sure you don’t do anything extreme, and as it stands, we ain’t leavin’ ‘till it’s safe ‘ta do so!”
“And just how can you monitor that? You haven’t attached any detector modules on me have you?”
“Nah, the map will tell us.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong here. No further action is required on your part. You can stay as long as you like, but understand that you would’ve been fine just communicating with me instead of dropping everything to come here.”
“Max,” Twily then adds to dispel the tension, “I understand where you’re coming from, but I implore you to understand our trepidation as well as the map’s. I can promise you that map doesn’t just send us to such remote or distant locations without a very good reason.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, nor do I want to just send us in circles, but I assure you that I’m fine. All I need is some time alone, some breathing room, and once I get back into my routine as it was before, everything will return to normal.”
“And how long will that take?”
“Well, I can’t give you solid dates because my business is on-demand. Unfortunately, I don’t have any scheduled hires in the near future, so there’s no timetable for a return, but I’ll find ways to keep myself entertained. I have no shortage of toys available.”
“What kinds of activities do you like to do?”
“I take my cars out for drives, I’ll make random trips to places, or I’ll play video games that emulate those two activities. I have flight simulators, racing and motorsport-type racing games, or I have their literal real-world counterparts.”
“It seems like your scope of activities and hobbies is extremely limited. One of your hobbies is literally your career.”
“Aye. That it is.”
“But that’s the perfect path to burnout.” Twi interjects. “How do you cope with that?”
“I’ve had plenty of burnouts over the course of my life, including 3 in the 5 years I was in Uni, plus 1 or 2 before I even made the airlines. Usually I let it play out and I conquer it with Motorsport. Thus, if I burn out in aviation, I can burnout in a car instead.”
Only Rainbow laughs, much to everybody and everypony else’s bemusement.
“Good one, Max!” She cries.
“Came up with it myself.” I say tipping my nonexistent hat. “Princess Twilight, I assure you that I need no additional assistance. I’ve been self-sustinent most of my life, even between and outside my marriages. Everyone ready to go to California?”
“Chicago departure, Boeing Echo India, Delta Hotel X-Ray off Gusty Garden, 2,400 climbing 6,000.”
“Boeing Echo India Delta Hotel X-Ray, Chicago departure. Radar contact 2 miles WNW Gusty Garden Airport. Turn left direct CMSKY, then proceed direct BDF.”
“Position checks, direct CMSKY, direct Bradford, Boeing EI-DHX.”
When we reach our cruising altitude of 38,000 feet, Rainbow comes into the cockpit along with Dashie.
“Hello.”
“Hey Max. Dashie wants to see this flying machine in action.”
“By all means. Please don’t touch anything, but I can answer questions.”
“How does this thing even fly?”
“Using the same principals as pegasi do.”
“But this thing weighs a ton!”
“Many tons. 46 tons in fact. And you’re right, it is surprising. And this jet is one of the smaller commercial jetliners out there. There are much bigger birds in the skies. This one is one of the most popular. Your twin actually hates this airplane.”
“Why?”
“You can ask her.”
“Boeing DHX, contact Denver center on 132.225.”
“32.22, Boeing DHX.” “Denver Center, Boeing EI-DHX, level at 380.”
“Boeing EI-DHX, Denver Center, roger.”
“Hi, got room for one more?” One of the Pinkies asks about 30 minutes later.
“That’s fine.”
“That’s a nice view. How far away are we?”
“We’ll begin descending shortly, so about 45 minutes or so.”
“Okie dokie, Loki!” She says as she stands in the doorway.
“I take it you’re enjoying the view from up here.”
“I’ve never really been this high up before. Even in Cloudsdale, a view like this would be difficult to replicate.”
“I see.”
“Boeing DHX, descend and maintain FL260.”
“Descend and maintain FL260, Boeing DHX.” I reply as I reach over and set the bugs for altitude and a descent rate of 2000 fpm.
“You’ll be pleased to know we’re beginning our descent now. I’ll need everyone seated in about 10-15 minutes. Rainbow, your decision altitude is 10,000. Stay or go at that point.”
“Got it.”
“Boeing EI-DHX, radar service terminated, IFR flight plan closed, retain squawk to landing, switch to advisory, great day.”
“IFR closed, squawk to the ground, over to advisory, thanks for the help, Boeing DHX.”
“March traffic,” Rainbow then calls, “Boeing EI-DHX in Banning Pass, visual 32.”
Flaps 5. Slow to 200.
I then set the CTAF for Perris Valley, L65, in the secondary and monitor it, just in case there‘s any traffic.
Below 190, flaps 10.
Below 180, flaps 15. Runway in sight, landing assured, lower landing gear.
“Perris traffic, Diver 9 climbing 9,000, sensitive film operation, Perris.”
3 green, down and locked. “Perris traffic, Boeing EI-DHX over the reservoir, turning 5 mile right base 32.”
“How high are you?”
“4,200 descending. And it’s ‘hi, how are you.’” I quip back as I set flaps 25.
“Very clever. You’ll be no factor. We’re turning southeast towards Hemet. Thanks for checkin’ in.”
“No problem. Nice to talk to ‘ya.”
30 flaps. Rolling onto final.
50.
40.
30.
20.
10.
Touchdown. Spoilers up, brakes on, 2 in reverse.
60 knots, disengage reverse thrust.
“March traffic, EI-DHX, clear of the runway at D.”
Once parked, shut down, and settled, I show everyone to a bedroom. Each human and pony gets their own room.
Since I don’t need their help but nevertheless appreciate their company, I decide to show them a good time. Since we’re in Riverside, and because tomorrow’s Saturday, I’m free.
October 12: Los Angeles or San Diego for the day? Ultimately, since I know more places to see, I choose the former.
It’s not exactly easy for us to stuff 14 of us into 2 cars, but we make it work. At her behest, the second driver is AJ. This greatly influences who rides with who, as the Twilights, Sunset, and the Rarities pick me. On the road with no time to lose, we head for Tinseltown.
When we reach that section of freeway where it’s always crowded no matter what, I make sure they’re right behind me. At around this point is where I need them close so I can drive down Hollywood Blvd. Our first stop will be right around there so we can walk and see some sights.
I carefully change lanes to leave space for my following. This is one place to expect good traffic, and even before getting off the freeway, we’ve added about 5 minutes to our travel time.
Fortunately, when we reach Hollywood Blvd and the Walk of Fame, the large amount of foot traffic is formidable, but a good indicator of what I would describe as a “healthy” level of tourists.
When I find parking convenient to the area but worth a pretty penny, I set a timer for three hours and head down the walk of fame.
I point out a few stars that interest me and take pictures of the girls with their favorite stars. Taking in the atmosphere of a Saturday afternoon with some of my friends in star-studded Los Angeles, you would expect me to at least be glad I’m in good company, and I am, but that’s not all.
See, the last time I actually did something touristy in Hollywood proper was with my cousins, when I was in middle school. Safe to say, it’s been quite some time since then and I guess doing it once coupled to living relatively close to Los Angeles for most of my life kind of makes me numb to it. Still, it’s not a total loss. Watching my friends interact with their twins and vice versa surprisingly has showed me both what each of them is like and in the process have discovered something personal about me.
What you may not know about my marriage to Rosalina was that when we met, she was only a few years past some of the most defining and traumatic moments of her life. Remember how I said that her mother died from complications undoubtedly linked to smoking and her father decided to join her shortly after? Well, shortly after that, she and Lockie were struggling to hold fort with what their parents left behind, so Rosalina left the Mushroom World for a fresh start and so she could get away from the pain and guilt she associated with home at the time.
At Mario and Luigi’s insistence, who were themselves under attack from the Koopa in the wake of specifically Peach’s pregnancy with Marc and Peter, Rosalina found an opportunity to live in this world. A few years later, she decided to return home and see Lockie, who had himself followed in his elder sister’s footsteps. Fun fact, at one point, both siblings were living only a few hours apart. Rosalina was working in Oklahoma City and Lockie was just beginning at the supermarket he now owns in Amarillo.
Anyway, I tell you that story to tell you this one. Over the course of the time we’ve known each other, I never really realized that subconsciously I have a type. Obviously there was the whole thing about Applejack, but this type is not physically definable. Each of the girls exhibit this trait, but Rarity fits this bill the best.
It’s no secret that Rarity’s love of fashion, clothing, and high society is very much what defines her as a member of her community. Obviously it’s standard practice for her to have an extensive working knowledge of her industry, but that’s not all.
Remember when I fell ill in London? She stepped the hell up. I know that she would do anything in her power to help a friend, and she did, but it was how she cared for me and that Display of Affection that really clinched it looking back. Or, you know, maybe she was just too afraid to watch someone die in front of her, I don’t know.
Rarity is not afraid to assume or step into a role that by the archetypes and stereotypes, what have you, directly contradict or otherwise go against the traditionally held morals, ethicals, ideals, or values, emphasis on traditional. See, I love each of the girls because they’re all tough, practical, self-assured, and comfortable in their careers. They’re all doing something they love or have otherwise connected their passion with their profession.
Knowing that Rarity especially, as someone who is very much the full part so to speak is willing to wear different hats, especially those that are considered polar opposites, and pull off those roles so well, on top of being what I could only describe as openly motherly, is beautiful. Someone who knows what they are, are confident in it, but are not afraid to get dirty or even go against the grain of their core selves, especially in the name of friendship or camaraderie, shows so much more than just their most defining and associative traits that after a while, at the risk of sounding shallow, could make them seem one-dimensional. That’s why I love this group so much, each gives the others something they wouldn’t have without them or at the very least, keeps their life interesting and diverse, which says a lot about their individual personalities and themselves as a group. Rarity may be the type of girl who is very over the top, but she knows she has lots of control over her life and career, despite her occasional screaming and hollering. As such, these outbursts are indicative of one thing: passion. Rarity may be a damsel in distress when she needs to be, but she is SO much more than just a one trick pony. That’s where I come in.
See, I’ve built my entire life around flight. Aside from a few years in my earliest days where I wasn’t concerned with my future, I can comfortably say I’ve eyed a career as a pilot for as long as I’ve lived. For that reason, to most people I seem extremely one-dimensional, and that really annoys me. Obviously, I want people to know me as a pilot because that’s what I’ve built my life on, and I’m proud of it. I don’t like being labeled exclusively as a pilot. Second to aviation is admittedly probably too close to be considered an “outside” hobby, cars. My garage almost rivals the Sultan of Brunei. Granted, it wouldn’t take decades to drive my entire garage (assuming one different car every day), but I’m proud of it too. Being so closely linked to motorized vehicles of transportation is limiting as I don’t have any other hobbies outside of them. I mean, yeah, I’ve played a couple sports and can easily have fun in other media like card games or board games, but in those I’m very much a casual. As for sports, I love them too, but especially in the one sport I like the best, baseball, that’s a team sport, and as such I can’t enjoy it without a second person. Similarly, golf. I’m not good at the game, but I definitely can have a lot of fun, even alone, but given the atmospheres of traditional golfers and that clientele, I tend to shy away from it by virtue of not being good at the game, as my lack of skill or practice would slow down everybody teeing off behind me.
The point I’m trying to make is Rosalina is like that. Even in the loss of both her parents, moving to a completely unfamiliar world, and building a new life there, developing who she was as a person and staying strong to who she was before she left home but still keeping a very open mind. That’s what makes those people so attractive. Rosalina even as “Princess of the Cosmos” still built a life here and despite having a much better opportunity in her home world, still maintains it.
Now that I’ve spent way too much time talking about myself, we find ourselves at the Disney/Ghirardelli Soda Fountain. Sounds like this is one thing the Equestrians have directly from the parallel, so to speak.
“Do you have bars or pubs back in Equestria, or is this the only equivalent?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Applejack responds. “We make cider, and it’s relatively well-distributed.”
“Is it alcoholic?”
“Yes, but it’s not that strong.”
“I see. Well, hopefully I’ll get to try it one of these days.”
“Absolutely! Let me know when you’re in Equestria and I’ll save you a glass.”
“Hey!” Dashie calls from the other end. “You’ll save him one but I still have to wait?!”
As we dig in to our lunch/dessert, amidst the conversations each of the others have, I receive a text.
“Why would our cousin be putting his needs above the family’s just because he didn’t want to go to med or dental school?”
“Because his career would only guarantee him being on strike, always looking for a job, or getting paid in peanuts. Money is the only thing that’ll make you happy, and he didn’t want to be happy.”
“What if he only wanted to be a pilot because of his love for the job?”
“That’s some touchy-feely feel-good bullshit that the self-esteem movement has pushed to compensate for the fact that they’ll never be making money. They only pursued their passion because they had no other way.
“Stop wasting your time and more importantly my time over this abortion of a sorry excuse for a dumpster you call our “other cousin.” Your life is so much better without him trying to brainwash you into thinking that money isn’t everything. That’s asinine. Happiness comes from making lots of money, which motivates you to work harder to earn even more. End of story. Stop talking about him. He doesn’t exist, and never has.”
Normally, I’d just laugh and roll my eyes, but this… this feels like a death threat, and not in a craic way. I shouldn’t be worried about this since not only do they refuse to acknowledge me, they deny my existence. Why should I be worried? I mean, sure, I saw the cousin who asked about me in New York, but that was a chance encounter. No way would I get threatened just because I’m still alive, right?
No matter. Let’s figure out the rest of the day.
By request of Twi and both Pinkie Pies, we head for the La Brea tar pits. In the case of the latter two, their sister Maud (of which there are also counterparts) is a huge fossil fan, so taking some pictures here are for her/them. As for Twi, this is one of a few opportunities to see Los Angeles from a historical standpoint, a primeval one.
Moving swiftly on, we stay out of Beverly Hills for reasons related to production filming, so we head for a proper lunch at one of my favorite places, Tsujita Killer Noodle in the Sawtelle neighborhood. I’m also here to conquer a spice challenge.
Thanks to low traffic (it’s like 14:45) we’re alone with only one other party to be served. As for the challenge, at the advice of the manager, my parameters are set as follows.
- Tokyo Style instead of Downtown or Original Style.
- No Soup.
- Numbness and spice level are both adjustable, each on a scale from 0 to 6.
Not ones to back down from a challenge, and eager to show the other up, both Applejacks and Rainbow Dashes follow in my footsteps.
Levels 4, 5, and 6 are spiced with ghost peppers in addition to the sansho peppers used in levels 1, 2, and 3. Because the upper levels use ghost pepper, the scale is exponential from that point.
Only one other is willing to enter the ghost pepper region: Sunset. None of the Equestrians dare try, and probably for good reason. I’ve tried up to level 5, where Sunset will attempt, and the house standard is level 3, which is where Twi and Pinks draw the line.
Everyone except Twily will remain at level 1. The Princess is therefore the only one who will not have any spice in hers.
I like spice, so a lot of spice challenges pique my interest. This one is no exception, which was recommended to me by some ramen foodie friends.
As the others continue to make small chat, I try and keep my mind clear of that little text exchange. I for whatever reason am in that group chat, but the only reason I can assume as to why is because of the cousin that continually vouches for me. Fitting, since he was the last one to disown me, and as I mentioned before, wouldn’t have if he didn’t have to. I take some solace in that, but for his sake I’m glad he chose to disown me, lest he himself get stigmatized.
When our food arrives, all thoughts of the text exchange vanish as I get my first sniff of level 6. It’s so hot, I‘m literally tearing up by scent alone. AJ, Applejack, Rainbow, and Dashie all do the same and suppress some coughs. I hope this doesn’t hurt them more than it should.
Before digging in, I mix everything together to break down the little garnish and to both help cool down the noodles and take in the full ghost pepper aroma. Now for that first bite.
The aroma pierces both mouth and nose, but I can easily overcome it.
When the first few specks of pepper hit my tongue, to call it wildfire would be a understatement, and firestorm definitely wouldn’t encapsulate it enough. Fire whirl/fire devil? Maybe. It’s an absolute madhouse either way. The tingling sensation starts immediately, so I quickly swallow the first bite with as little chewing as possible to keep my mouth clear. I’ve done a few spice challenges, and I’m able to convince myself that the first bite is always the hardest, so I know that each bite will be easier because I know where the bar is.
Before going for the second bite, I vainly attempt to cleanse my palate, so I just dive right in. The Apples and Dashes seem to be fine, though it’s blatantly obvious that at least the Equestrians have made a grave mistake. The ones I know however aren’t as worse for the wear, even though we’ve just started. To that I chuckle, considering that Equestrian cuisine (from the pony side) isn’t exactly known for spice, which kind of explains most of the others’ choice to order level 1 or 0.
To ease the pain, I reduce the size of my bite. I’m in no hurry to leave, and by the looks of the others’ conversations and such (aside from the obvious competition), neither are they.
A few more sips of water before each of the next few bites are futile in attempt to take advantage of the placebo effect. Nevertheless, come my approximate halfway point, the equestrian hotheads are only a bit behind me. The fire in their eyes hasn’t ceased despite the fire burning hot in each of their mouths. Actually, let me rephrase that. The fire in their eyes is burning just as hot as the ones in their mouths.
Sunset looks no better, with her face a few shades lighter than her hair and sweating profusely.
“This is really good,” she says barely able to speak. “Maybe I should’ve just stuck to a 4 or 3.”
I chuckle in response as I prepare for another bite.
Relishing the taste as much as I can now that the tingling has gone down slightly, I keep my focus on the others to try and distract from the near-unbearable burn in my mouth. No changes, other than a clear tie emerging between AJ and Rainbow. Both pairs overall however are now definitely worse for wear. Despite this, I can tell they’re holding off to see who taps out first.
I have two to three bites left, and I very desperately want a glass of milk, but I only need water until I finish.
One more bite, one more bite! ~~(Man v. Food! Man v. Food!)~~
As I prepare for my last bite, I drop an ice cube in my mouth for a bit of psychological respite before getting a burst of rage and going for the last bite, some semblance of remnant heat and my own breath melting the cube as I slurp up the last noodle.
With a large exhale of victory, I pop a few more ice cubes to try and extinguish the blaze, but efforts are futile to a certain point, as the sheer volume of capsaicin I’ve ingested has permeated below the gum line, so to speak.
It’s now a race to see who’ll either finish or tap out.
Fortunately, we don’t have to wait long as Sunset finishes to minimal fanfare but asking for more water.
As for the others, Twily and Pinks are done, Twi and Pinkie have a couple bites left, the Fluttershys are about halfway through, and each of the Rarities are just eating their last bites.
Back to the competitions, each have a few bites left, and just as their faces go redder than a tomato, the Equestrians tap out. At the same time. I kid you not, it sounded like one big slam on the table.
Everyone, including the other tables, looks at them. Following the equines are the humans, who both finish, AJ swallowing her last bite only seconds before Rainbow.
“Hoo-whee!” AJ dribbles, sounding quite numb from all the spice, “well done Rainbow! We did it!”
The poor Equestrians desperately scramble for water, so I pass my pitcher over to them. To my amusement, a second one is brought over along with glasses of milk. I laugh as each of their acceptances shows that they not only conceded to not finishing level 6, both equally jump at the opportunity to take some casein.
After I take care of the bill and end up with the level 6 leftovers, we make our way out and decide to return home. I have nothing else I want to do short of pick up some water on the way, so after we find a convenience store to buy a couple bottles, we hop onto I-10 and make for March.
When we return home, everyone heads for a bathroom while I get a different type of feeling. See, today is a day I hold in higher regard than I should, but one I hold close to me, lest I forget. I’ll just let it play out.
“You put your own needs before the family. You could’ve had everything you ever wanted.” One voice bellows from afar.
“Giving into the desires of the flesh. What a shame. You could’ve had wealth and prosperity. Instead, you follow your own interests. May God have mercy on your soul.” Says another.
“You spat on us just because you didn’t want what was best for you. We spoiled you rotten so you would know what to expect, and all you did was throw it back at us, like a fucking indigent. You could have a support system, you could’ve been provided with wealth and prosperity, and you could‘ve been happy. Instead, you’re going to die young, you’re going to die poor, and you can forget about Heaven. Proverbs 19:23.” A third then adds just as my siblings and cousins appear.
“You had your time to play,
This is your judgment day.
We made a sacrifice,
And now you will pay with your life.”
“But you don’t have a gun.” I retort.
“We’re not taking on just anyone.”
“Is this a thing you do?”
“It’s something that we have to do.
“By putting your own wants and needs above the family’s, you have disrespected, dishonored, and disgusted us all. You are hereby stripped of your title and your patronage. Everything we did to you was done in love, so it’s your fault for getting offended, snowflake. You were a waste of our time, a waste of our money, a waste of our life, and a waste of blood and organs.”
“Why do you want to be a pilot?? That’s so preposterous!”
“With a belly like yours, how the fuck are you not diabetic?”
“What we say can’t hurt you because we love you.”
“Because we love you, we can say these things.”
“Truth sounds like hate speech to people who hate the truth.”
“God will provide if you just follow what’s best for you!”
“Money is the only thing that’ll make you happy!”
“Anyone who says otherwise is in denial.”
“Anyone who says otherwise is bullshitting themselves.”
“Alright,” I seethe quietly as I quickly exit the flashback. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Grabbing some gloves, a small revolver, a lighter, and a jerry can, I check the wheel and load a second bullet. On the rare occasions I played FPS games, I especially sucked on “one in the chamber.” This just increases my chances.
The can has about a half gallon inside of it, which should work perfectly.
As I emerge into the main room, everyone is busying themselves, so I sneak around on the opposite wall, which is easy, as we’re on opposite sides of the room. Plus, now that the sun’s starting to go down, we should be pretty close to bedtime for some of them.
I head outside to the base of the airside entrance to the garage. Stuck on autopilot with no way to disengage it, I open the jerry can and hold it over my head, tipping it over making sure to utilize every last drop on both me and the ground around me.
I pull the lighter out of my pocket and strike it. Staring directly into the flame like a moth, I stop.
“Stop! Why are you doing this?! You’re no longer a part of their life!”
Taking that sentence with some modicum of validity, I then squat down and shut out my surroundings, being completely enveloped in the sweet, sweet smell of petrol.
“You have friends and family who care so much about you!”
Family. That six-letter f-word that carries absolutely no meaning. A word as meaningless as my existence.
“Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem!”
Well, life is one giant problem and there’s an easy solution for it. Though maybe that line would be more poignant if I had used bleach, but whatever.
Just before I can get the flame close enough to ignite the petrol, I stop again.
“This is your last chance, man. Even if you do decide to go through with it, just listen. Those girls love you with all their heart. Doing this to them will be just like kicking a puppy. I understand that the whole abandonment and disownment situation seems unrecoverable, but it’s safe to say that you make these girls happy. If that’s anything to go off of, it’s worth putting up with any potential threats your biological family might dish out. I don’t have much more to say, and I know that things seem like they’re in slow motion, but you’ve been living from moment to moment and holding back from day to day very well. I’m proud of you.”
The lighter is still on, and I’ve been squatted for what now feels like an eternity. I’ve lost almost all feeling from my shins down. I’ve heard all four voices, and I hear what they’re all saying.
“Gonna break free.” I say as I smash the lighter on the ground, igniting the admittedly trace amounts of probably stale petrol.
As the ring around me flashes over rather anticlimactically, I reach for the revolver and point it in two places. My chest, and my head.
Wasting no time, to avoid the stream of tears, I shout, “I was born to break free!”
No sooner do I hear everyone bursting out the door to the scene before them does the whole scene turn into absolute and utter chaos.
As the unintelligible cacophony of crying, screaming, frantic pacing, and constant reassurances of “stay with me” and “it’s going to be okay” pass through one ear and go out the other, the only thing to leave my mouth is,
“It’s all, all, all… all good. I feel absol… absolutely amazing.”
Always Side by Side no Matter Where We Go
“Good morning, Mr. Scimitar and Miss Rosalina. Both parties are present here today, each without an attorney, despite the offering of the court. Both parties may issue their opening statements, we shall start with Mr. Scimitar.”
“Your honor, while I did want to fight to preserve this marriage, after careful consideration and a thorough review of financial, career, and personal profiles, our irreconcilable differences were apparent through the obligations of both our careers. While it was easy for us to be accommodating for the other, our lives and careers will remain in more optimal positions in the long run if our marriage is severed.”
“Thank you Mr. Scimitar. Miss Rosalina.”
“Your honor, as we were reviewing our financial documents, while it was indeed easier for us to conduct our lives as married, the distance and demands of our careers along with our inability to spend time together, even in our time off, has not only made our marriage difficult, it has been made near impossible to sustain. The busyness of our careers combined with the lack of downtime and substantially less downtime together has brought us to a point where severing our marriage is the best course of action to take. The last thing I want is to harbor any kind of grudge against Mr. Scimitar, and both he and I have mutually agreed to part ways so as to remove the obligation of meeting the other’s needs.”
“Thank you Miss Rosalina. Mr. Scimitar, please discuss the irreconcilable differences further with the court.”
“Your honor, as the demands of my career dictate, I can spend extended periods of time away from home with clients. The obligations of running my company in efforts to ensure my clients’ safety, happiness, and wellbeing exceeds the comfort level of Miss Rosalina. I would not be willing to care less for my clients as that experience and treatment has been a hallmark of my business and as such would negatively affect its operations. The severance of our marriage would ease the burden on both of us, as I would be able to continue providing for my clients as necessary and Miss Rosalina would be relieved of any conditions that she would otherwise not be okay with. Removing our obligations to each other is the best course of action for either of us to avoid potentially harboring grudges towards one another.”
“Miss Rosalina, what are your responses to these statements.”
“Your honor, there is no counter argument. Every single point I agree on verbatim and as such, my only statement shall be ‘I could not have said it better myself. We are severing our marriage to preserve our personal relationship. We both believe that attempting to save and continue this marriage would strain our friendship and risk destroying it in the hypothetical inevitable of a divorce anyway. This is what’s best for us, and we both agree on that.’”
“Thank you Miss Rosalina. Let the record show that on this day, March 17, the decision of Mr. Split Scimitar and Miss Rosalina to dissolve their marriage due to irreconcilable differences stemming from career demands and pressures, as well as in the interest of their own relationship, is heard before the Honolulu county Family Court of the First Circuit. I hereby declare this marriage… dissolved.” With a smack of the gavel, it’s all over. Just like that.
As Sunshine Helicopters does not conduct any business on Oahu, she is booked on an interisland flight. However, thanks to a convenient court date and hearing time, we have all day to spend before then. Just because we’re no longer married doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company. We severed the marriage to relieve ourselves of fulfilling our wants and needs as traditionally dictated. Not that we couldn’t survive with an intact marriage, but at least from my view, it would eventually become one of those ‘at the end of the day, I would eventually get to a point to where upon realizing we’re still married, suddenly feel bombarded with those traditional wants, needs, and obligations.’ This doesn’t mean that we got divorced as a cop out, but rather, to avoid a crisis of conscience.
“What’s a good way to mark this occasion?” Rosalina asks.
“If we were on another island, I’d say we could go for a little pleasure cruise. On my dollar.”
“I wouldn’t want to do that now. Maybe the next time you were to visit.”
“Fair enough. I’d say we could surf, but do you want to go to the North Shore?”
“We could, as an excuse to get Giovanni’s [Shrimp Truck].”
“True, but if we’re up there, we can just go to Dole and eat.”
“I’m thinking shrimp. Let’s do that.”
“You rented the car, you have the final say. 91.3.”
We head for Haleiwa and pull in to a gravel lot packed full with cars and queues to match. Two people are directing traffic, so Rosalina tells me to take the wheel since she knows what we like and so I can take the leg of the drive to the North Shore.
As I readjust the seat, I keep my eyes peeled for any directions to park. Fortunately, one person leaves a few meters down, so I sneak in along with another small car. Since we’ll be sitting for a little bit, I curb the wheels outward to increase our chances before joining Rosalina in the queue.
“Wow, you got parking. Nice job.”
“If we had a bigger car, I’d’ve parked outside the lot.”
“Fair enough. I’m glad they had some. Remember the last time we chose to rent in Honolulu.”
“Yeah. They were out of most everything, so we were forced to rent either a Tahoe or a minivan.”
“Yeah.”
When we get to the front of the line, we place our order, pay, get a number, and wait.
About 15 minutes after we order, we get our prawns. I ask if she wants to drive again, but turns it over to me so she can admire the scenic route.
As we make for La’ie, I pace down so I too can get a good long look at the natural scape before us. Even though I spent a lot of time here in Hawaii, 90% of it on Oahu, I’ve only driven this road 3 or 4 times.
In any case, as we admire the coastal run ahead and around us, I not unusually ponder my life, which is always the first thing my brain does when out in nature. I must be a fan of sonder, always hit with the thought of “no matter what happens in life, one is just but a small grain of sand amongst the stars.” As the road moves with the land, each curve and bend following the contours of the terra firma, it‘s only natural to feel like the small insignificance of a human being as a grain of sand in a Sky Full of Stars is but an existential swim down the river of life to an unknowable destiny.
Yet destiny is still very much in the control of the individual. Life may not always supply a paddle, and even if you have to use your hands, while you can’t always stop the tide, just keep swimming. No, keep on keeping on? Good enough I guess.
Soon, we reach La’ie, and just for a quick trip down memory lane for me, the two of us stop outside the Polynesian Cultural Center. Away from most of the tourist traffic, we decide to enjoy our now tepid prawns.
“I forgot how good these are.”
“So did I. Been quite a while since either of us have had these, huh?”
“Yes actually. The only places whose shrimp come close are San Francisco and Australia. Remember that big feast we had with DK and The Crew?”
“Yeah. I had a lot of fun then. [To] tell you the truth, I’ve kind of been wanting to go back.”
“Why didn’t you ever bring it up? I would’ve made space.”
“Yeah, but I never found a good time to go.”
“Oh. Well, believe it or not, I was gonna go after leaving here. But I decided against it at the last minute.”
“Why’s that?”
“I‘m receiving shipments of airplanes that are due relatively soon. Since they’re scattered over a relatively large timeframe, I need to be around.”
“Whose airplanes are you getting?”
“Delta is giving me all their T-Tail aircraft, so their Boeing 717, MD-88, and MD-90. And I’ve been told at least from Delta that I’ll be getting other types due for retirement.”
“Wow. You’re gonna have your hands full.”
“Yeah, Victorville will be fit to burst. Fortunately though, there’s plenty of space. And maybe some of them would make their way to the MW?”
“Sure. Just let me know so I can relay it. They’ve been very pleased with the 747’s and A380’s you’ve sent. They’ve quickly become a fan favorite over there.”
“I’m glad.” I say as we finish our plates. “Better to send ‘em there than doomed to a fate of scrap, especially if museum preservation isn’t an option.”
“That’s somewhere we never went while we were married.” Rosalina says.
“Yeah. I guess since I have a whole fleet in active use, no need to see it in a museum, when I have a living, breathing example.” I say as I walk over to a bin to dispose of our garbage.
“True, but I guess there is that element of history that you like.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I never really gave it much thought, since it was something that was almost exclusively me. To be fair, we never really did things that you liked exclusively. A lot of our married life was centered around me, even if I couldn’t help it. Most of the time we did spend together was either work-related or me. Not that we didn’t know each other, because I think we do, and every day, we discovered something new, or at least, I did.”
“I never believed doing activities largely centered around you were ever an obstacle, nor did not doing anything I liked ever prove a detriment. We both knew what we liked, and what the other liked. I think both of us agreed silently that we enjoyed our individual activities without a need or obligation to try and make the other interested.”
“I can agree. I never wanted to force anything on you, despite a lot of the activities we did being very much my kind of things. Granted, our lives I will admit were going to be me-centric, because we had the world at our fingertips, but I still can’t shake the feeling of ‘we never did any couples things or you things.’ A lot of our marriage was, whether meant or not, about me. I kind of hate myself for it.” I say as I climb back in.
“You don’t need to hate yourself. I never had a problem with it, even if to you it seemed like I was just along for the ride. Obviously, in our marriage, we did have some of those moments, but in the grand scheme of things, the stuff we did and the lives we lived were heavily centered around you and specifically flying because that was just how our lives were, and just as fate would have it, we took advantage of being able to do all these amazing things. Because of you, we were able to do that. Because of you, we could go to some random place in the country or even the world just for a date night! Because of you, we went on some really great vacations. Because of you, we made the memories we did and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Yes, flying with you is a lot about you, but that just happened to be the role you fit into. Yes, I built my life around you and Sunshine, but I count my blessings in the opportunities we had, especially the one to begin at Sunshine no less. I honestly would never have imagined my life to take the path it has. I would never have imagined that I was going to take over the company. I would never have given a second thought to serving multiple islands even before I began in the managerial role. I would never have been able to say I can live and work on three different islands. And best of all, I could never have been prouder to have lived my life with you. You’ve given me so much and never really asked for anything in return. I have lived a life better than I could have ever dreamed. Because Of You.”
I’m at a loss for words. I don’t even care if this is probably the fourth or fifth time she’s made that speech, I still tear up. Of course, this one really hits the nail on the head and gets driven through to the heart. Forget tugging or plucking my heartstrings, this time she’s made a full-on symphony out of them. Obviously I’m still kind of caught up in the moment of recent events, so maybe that’s what makes this time special.
As I turn on the engine, I step on the brake and kind of just sit idly, ready to put the car in drive, but also meditative, almost out of body. In anticipation of what’s to come next, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Suppressing every urge not to cry-laugh, tears well up and I let out a straggle chuckle with accompanying smile.
Rosalina places her hand on top of mine, which is still on the gear lever. As Rosalina brings me back to reality. Ope! There goes gravity. The tears start to fall.
I then let out a sigh and wipe the tears out, as Rosalina smiles in her usual motherly way and reaches across to hug me.
We remain in each other’s embrace for a bit. No additional tears fall, but they do well up, so I naturally wipe my eyes.
When we let go, I take three deep breaths, feeling unusually like a racing driver about to begin one of the biggest races of his life, which is a pretty apt comparison since we’re in a Honda Civic.
When finally ready, I put her in drive and head back towards Honolulu.
As we pass Kualoa Ranch, I smile but continue driving, as one of my memories with the family was doing their zipline. I’m glad I went, but I don’t need to do it again unless I’m showing company the island.
When we roll into Kaneohe and Kailua, I stop at a red light and ask,
“H3 or Pali [Highway]?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want to stop at Nu’uanu [Pali]? For old time’s sake?”
“Sure.”
When we reach our vista point, I put her in park and head for the lookout. The place is nice at sunset, like many of my favorite vistas, but this is the lookout point where I almost held her hand for the first time. I haven’t been back here since.
After about 10 minutes of staring off into the distance with my arms wrapped around her, I rest my head on hers and sigh at the memory of our first time here.
When we return to Honolulu proper, we crash at one of my many houses in the city. As I comb through things, I find my old surfboard, lightly covered in dust and in desperate need of a new coat of wax. I haven’t used it since Rosalina and I first met, and I don’t plan on using it anytime soon, so instead of leaving it on the garage floor, I hang it up on one of the bike racks if I ever want to re-wax it.
With about 3 hours until she leaves, we head for dinner at Jade Dynasty in Ala Moana. Easily my favorite Chinese restaurant in Hawaii, and also one of the most expensive, but definitely worth the upscale price and service.
To my complete surprise, Rosalina takes care of this one against my wishes. I should note that we had a similar experience the first time we met. Our first meal together was in Chicago’s Chinatown, and we both fought over the bill. Sadly, that restaurant has since closed, but that was the first of many times we would both dine together and fight over the bill together. At least I can be sure one thing will remain in the future.
Soon, the inevitable arrives. Rosalina has to drop me off at the FBO, since I flew myself in, before she heads to the rental return and the interisland terminal. I have her flight number, so what better way to send each other off than to time our departures sequentially.
Given her departure time, I can preflight and be ready to go with about a half hour to play with. I only have my standard duffel bag, so if this isn’t the definition of an empty leg, I don’t know what is.
No anomalies to report, and the facility wants me out by tonight, as there is another large reservation arriving tomorrow. Since we’re leaving mid-afternoon, I should arrive home at about midnight.
2 alight and stable.
“Daniel K. Inouye Honolulu International Airport ATIS Information Bravo. 0128Z. Wind 050 at 12. Visibility 10. Scattered clouds at 13,000. Temperature 24, dewpoint 23. Altimeter 29.95. ILS runway 8L and visual runway 8R in use. Landing and departing runway 8L and runway 8R. Notices to airmen: Taxiway F closed. Runway 4L threshold temporarily displaced 1,000 feet. Runway 4R threshold temporarily displaced 3,000 feet. Advisory: all VFR aircraft contact clearance delivery prior to taxi. All aircraft read back all runway hold short instructions. Advise on initial contact you have information Bravo.”
Flaps 5, expect 8L or 8R departure.
“Honolulu clearance, Boeing Echo India, Foxtrot India Mike, IFR to Victorville.”
“Boeing Echo India Foxtrot India Mike, cleared to Victorville via MKK4, EBBER, R577, ELKEY, SXC, ELB, PDZ, VPLCP, APLES. Expect direct CKH, cross at or above 3,000. HCF departure frequency 124.8, squawk 1012.”
“Cleared to Victorville via Molokai Four, EBBER, Romeo Five Seven Seven, ELKEY, Santa Catalina, El Toro, Paradise, Cajon Pass, APLES. Cross Koko Head at or above 3,000. HCF departure 124.8, squawk 1012, Boeing Echo India, Foxtrot India Mike.”
“Boeing Fox[trot] India Mike, readback correct. Ground .9, the ATIS Bravo.”
“Daniel K. Inouye Honolulu International Airport Information Bravo…”
“Honolulu ground, Boeing EI-FIM, Bravo, Castle & Cooke, ready to taxi.”
“Boeing EI-FIM, Honolulu ground, you’re a sight never before seen. Runway 8R, taxi via C RT RA, hold short of RB. You’ll be departing behind Southwest just turning on their engines now.”
“C RT RA, short of RB, runway 8R, Boeing FIM.”
“Boeing FIM, I’m gonna just call you Ryanair.”
“That’s fine.”
“Honolulu ground, Southwest 6808, Bravo.”
“Southwest 6808, Honolulu ground. Runway 8R, taxi via Z A RB.”
“Z A RB to the reef, 6808.”
“Southwest 6808, I don’t want to hurry you - we are in Hawaii after all - but we are slotting you for departure before an aircraft that’s closer to the runway than you.”
“What aircraft type are they?”
“Same, 737.”
“Why not just send them ahead of us?”
“Their flight plan’s scheduled departure is after yours.”
“Roger, 6808.”
As I take my sweet time to configure the aircraft for takeoff, I taxi out onto C so I don’t jet blast anyone or anything.
When I make the tight right turn onto RA, the level of busyness is pretty high as expected, but a lot of the airport’s ops are on 8L and the 4’s in spite of the construction activity.
“Southwest 6808, monitor tower 123.9.”
“23.9, 6808.”
“Ryanair, tower is 123.9.”
“23.9, mahalo, aloha, Fox India Mike.”
“Southwest 6808, Honolulu tower. Runway 8R, line up and wait.”
“8R, line up and wait, 6808.”
I watch as the plane moves slowly down RB for some reason. As they get closer however, whether by perspective illusion or not, they start to pick up the pace a little. They do have a direct line up and wait, so I wonder if they’re hoping for a quick turn and burn without stopping.
“Southwest 6808, tower. Emergency aircraft landing Lihue. You can take your time.”
“What about the aircraft waiting here? Send them ahead of us.”
“Unable, sir. Their IFR release is after yours.”
“6808.”
“Southwest 6808, uh, we’re still waiting on word from HCF. They want a departure stop.”
“Not a problem, 6808.”
“Boeing FIM, sorry to hold you.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got plenty of fuel. Any idea how long it might be?”
“Negative.“
“If they’re still stopped in about 15 minutes or so, I may need to shut down, Foxtrot India Mike.”
As Southwest passes by and rolls onto the runway, I decide to crack open the cockpit window since we may be sitting here for a bit.
“Boeing FIM, behind Southwest, taxi to runway 8R via RA RB.”
“RA RB, 8R, behind Southwest, Boeing EI-FIM.”
As I turn onto RB, I receive three texts, all from Rosalina. One is a picture short of RB, one is as they’re taking the runway, and the third says,
“I guess this is goodbye.”
“It’s more of a TTFN: ta-ta for now. I’ll be back.”
“Southwest 6808, runway 8R, cleared for takeoff.”
“Cleared for takeoff 8R, Southwest… 6808.”
I wait until takeoff thrust is set on their end before shutting and locking the window.
“Boeing EI-FIM, runway 8R, line up and wait.”
“Line up and wait 8R, Boeing FIM.”
Southwest lifts off just as I align with the centerline. To that, I arm the autopilot and await my own takeoff clearance.
“Southwest 6808, contact HCF, good flight.”
“Over to departure, Southwest 6808.”
“Boeing FIM, runway 8R, cleared for takeoff. Fly the Molokai Four.”
“Cleared for takeoff 8R, Molokai Four, Boeing FIM.”
Takeoff thrust set.
80 knots.
V1
Rotate.
V2
Positive rate, gear up.
Flaps up.
“Boeing FIM, contact HCF, great flight.”
“Over to HCF, mahalo, aloha, until we meet again, Boeing Echo India Foxtrot India Mike.” “Honolulu departure, Boeing Echo India Foxtrot India Mike off Inouye, Molokai Four, 2.4 climbing.”
“Boeing Echo India, Foxtrot India Mike, HCF, good afternoon, radar contact 2 miles east of Honolulu airport. Proceed direct CKH, then direct BLUSH and SESXI.”
“Direct Koko Head, direct BLUSH, direct SESXI, Boeing FIM.”
“Boeing Fox India Mike, passing APLES, cleared RNAV GPS runway 17 approach. No landing information available for Victorville. Their ATIS is Victor.”
“Cleared RNAV GPS 17 at APLES, we’ll get Victor at Victorville, Boeing FIM.”
“Boeing FIM, switch to advisory, retain squawk code to landing.“
“Over to advisory, we’ve got Victorville in sight. We can cancel the IFR at this time.”
“Roger, Boeing FIM, IFR flight plan is closed. Retain squawk code to landing.”
“Closed, squawk to the ground, over to advisory, Boeing FIM.” “Victorville traffic, EI-FIM over APLES, RNAV GPS 17.”
Flaps 5. Slow to 200 knots.
Below 190 knots. Flaps 10.
Intercepting localizer, speed 180. Flaps 15.
Glideslope capture. Lower landing gear.
3 green, down and locked.
“Victorville traffic, EI-FIM, SUZZQ, RNAV GPS 17.”
2,500. Flaps 25.
Flaps 30. 1,000.
500.
200.
100.
50.
40.
30.
20.
10.
Touchdown. Spoilers up, 2 in reverse.
60 knots. Disengage reverse thrust. Light braking, exit at C2.
“Victorville traffic, EI-FIM, clear of the runway.” “That was probably the smoothest landing this airframe’s ever seen.”
Author's Note
“The pilot in command [of an aircraft] is directly responsible for, and has the final authority as to, the operation of [that aircraft.]”
-14 CFR § 91.3 (a)
